


Just This Once

by lalibertalia



Series: The Hundred Hundred Year Fall [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: A lot of sex really, Dream Sex, F/M, Legion - Freeform, Maiev has some Repressed Feelings, One-Shot, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalibertalia/pseuds/lalibertalia
Summary: Malfurion was wrong, she told herself—Maiev does not, and will never, need anyone but herself.Unfortunately, her body disagrees.





	Just This Once

There was once a time when tall, ancient trees and pristine lakes would have calmed Maiev, when snow-capped mountains and the serenity of nature would have eased her worries and soothed her troubled mind. She would have lain under the stars, cool grass at her fingertips, and shut out the thoughts that swarmed restlessly within her. But that time was long gone; now Maiev found her home in rocky crags and scarred lands, in cold shadows and musty caves, with nothing but her armour and glaives to comfort her when her thoughts turned dark. Funny, how a few millennia could erase a whole lifetime of habits.

Moonglade was, quite possibly, the last place one would expect to find Maiev Shadowsong. Lanterns were strung between trees, twinkling prettily, and the sky erupted in brilliant flashes of light as visitors amused themselves with firecrackers. Had she not been called to exterminate Omen, who rudely interrupted the festivities by bursting out of lake Elune’ara and destroying everything in its path, Maiev would never have been caught dead in this sacred place—and certainly not partaking in the Lunar Festival. Still, her involvement no longer reached beyond the bar, where Maiev sat sullenly, nursing a dark red liquid in a crystal glass.

“Remind me again why I must stay?” She muttered over her drink.

She heard a light chuckle as her neighbour turned, an even larger drink in hand, his antlers bathed in the light of the moon. “Our gryphons are tired, Maiev,” Broll Bearmantle chided. “Once they’ve regained their strength, you’ll be the first one out, I assure you.”

Maiev cast her eyes over the crowd. “Then I hope you’re well-stocked,” she grumbled. “This wine is the only tolerable thing here.”

Broll knit his eyebrows. “At least try and enjoy yourself, Maiev,” he said with a sigh. Maiev said nothing, and took a heavy gulp of her drink instead. Broll shook his head, raised his glass to her, and took his leave.

Maiev thought back to how she’d arrived at this awful place. How Sira had insisted, politely but firmly, that every other Warden was busy repairing the damage to their Vault, and that Maiev must be the one to heed the Druids’ call. It had been months since her escape from Ravencrest’s prison, and still her Wardens tiptoed around her, sending her far away from the Broken Isles whenever they got the chance. But she could not deny that Sira had become a great leader during her absence. _Perhaps too great_ , she thought bitterly.

Maiev kept drinking, refilling her glass at intervals as she looked out at the crowd with a sour taste in her mouth. For at least the sixth time that night, Maiev contemplated hiking through the mountains and back to Darkshore; it would certainly take her more time than waiting for a gryphon, but at least she wouldn’t have to be _here_. She almost longed for the days she spent beneath Mount Hyjal—alone with her thoughts, with nobody to disturb her.

Well, except for _him_.

She felt a brief spell of dizziness. How many drinks had she gone through? Maiev tried to think back, but she lost count after the seventh. Perhaps the long hike to Darkshore was the greater of two evils, then.

Without warning, the goblet slipped from her clumsy hand, landing on the earth with a soft _thud_ and forming a crimson puddle around her feet. She looked down with a grunt, vision blurry, trying to locate the offending object. At last she spotted it, rolling across the earth, away, away, away until—

The glass rolled to a halt in front of an unpleasant spectacle. For Maiev was not fond of Tyrande Whisperwind, nor was she fond of Malfurion. But most of all she despised the sight of the two of them together, not twenty paces away, laughing softly with fingers entwined.

Maiev felt a flash of jealousy, then anger at having felt it at all. No. Maiev would never allow herself to become jealous of Tyrande again, and she certainly wouldn’t envy the way she leaned into Malfurion, the way his arm wrapped securely around her, cradling her, his fingers dancing suggestively up her arm.

She stormed forward, unsteadily but determinedly, and bent to pick up her glass. Maiev rose just in time to see Malfurion plant a chaste kiss upon Tyrande’s perfect lips, and realized with disgust that she was close enough to see Tyrande blush cutely in response.

“Must you always act like lovestruck fools?” Maiev blurted.

The two of them jolted apart as if struck by lightning. But when Malfurion turned and saw Maiev standing there, swaying slightly, empty crystal glass in hand, he merely clicked his tongue.

“Leave us in peace, Maiev,” he said wearily.

“I would like nothing more,” Maiev retorted. “Unfortunately for all of us, Moonglade has taken me hostage while their gryphons recover their strength.”

“A pity we only have the pleasure of your company for one night, then,” said Tyrande, fangs glinting in the moonlight.

“Yes,” Maiev sneered back. “A pity.”

The three stood, awkwardly, each waiting for the other to speak first. At last Malfurion let out a weary sigh and reluctantly removed his arm from around Tyrande.

“Maiev, perhaps…” Malfurion hesitated. “Perhaps it may be time for you to… find someone.” He cleared his throat. “For yourself.”

Maiev scoffed. “What? Find a nice Kal’dorei mate and settle down, like you have?”

“It doesn’t have to be one of us,” Malfurion said unsurely. “For instance, I’m told the residents of Suramar are…” He searched for the right word. “...Interesting.”

“Yes, and when they steal a bottle of arcwine from Elisande, perhaps you can volunteer yourself as their jailor, too,” Tyrande added. “Since that seems to be the kind of relationship you handle best.”

Even Malfurion’s eyes widened at that, and Maiev felt a surge of rage course through her.

“How dare you,” Maiev seethed, hands trembling, shaking, around the goblet.

Tyrande must have said something in response, she was sure, and Malfurion may have even tried to scold her for it. But whatever it was never reached Maiev, as sound became white noise and her vision began to blur. All she knew, with a sudden certainty, was that she had to leave _now_.

She stumbled away from Tyrande, away from the lake, away from the people who mingled in festive outfits and launched enough fireworks to light the forest for minutes on end. She needed to find somewhere quiet, somewhere secluded where she could deal with her sickness alone. She found sanctuary among the enormous roots of one of Moonglade’s sacred trees—there she curled up and lost all sense of herself.

When she awoke the next morning, her head pounded like a Highmountain drum, and the daylight was nearly blinding. But she found her way to the gryphon master with only minimal trouble, and departed before anyone in Moonglade was awake enough to catch her. She rode for hours, over the wild forests of Kalimdor and across the sea, and by the time she returned to Aszuna it was already dark. Stiff from a long day of flying, Maiev retreated to her tent, careful to avoid the gaze of any lingering Watchers. To her relief, her bedroll was as she left it; she discarded her armour gracelessly before settling into the warm blankets her Sisters had brought out upon her return.

Tyrande’s voice taunted in the darkness.

_That seems to be the kind of relationship you handle best._

Maiev needed no one. Not then, and certainly not now.

She repeated this to herself, over and over, until sleep claimed her.

 

* * *

 

Maiev lay splayed out on the floor of a cell, back caked with dirt, face coated in a thin layer of dust. Above her crouched a dark figure, glowing faintly from the light of its tattoos. The rattle and clank of heavy chains echoed through the darkness. She hummed as large, powerful hands caressed her bare skin, as clawed fingers ghosted across her arms, her back, her stomach; each touch sent small shivers up her spine, and drew a pleasant sigh from her lips. She looked up, eyes filled with lust, hair unbound and coiling messily onto the ground, as she gazed deeply into a pair of fel-green eyes. They stared longingly at her, as a hand came up to brush her cheek, and a pair of lips met hers with fiery intensity.

Illidan Stormrage kissed with passion, pressing himself against her naked form, his nails leaving light scratches wherever he touched. Maiev moaned into his mouth, relishing in the touch and in the sounds she made as his hands left no part of her body unexplored.

He was gripping her tightly, one strong arm wrapped around her waist, kissing her neck languidly while his other hand slipped between her folds. His fingers curled inside her, rubbing circles with his thumb and causing her muscles to tighten and—

Maiev awoke covered in sweat, with an aching need between her legs. She reached her hand down and found, to her embarrassment, that a wet spot had formed beneath the sheets. Grimacing, Maiev shifted to the side, avoiding the patch of wetness and trying to ignore the heat pooling at her core. The moon still shone brightly. She had a few more hours before the day’s work began. Maiev shut her eyes tightly, disgruntled, and tried to forget.

Clearly, her body had other ideas. Her stomach clenched with need, throbbing, aching, wanting.

Maiev groaned.

 _Just this once_ , she thought to herself. _To rid myself of these desires._

She snuck a furtive glance around her tent and listened for the breathing of her sisters, confirming they were fast asleep. She would be quick, and quiet. Slowly, she began to stroke herself, thinking back to where her dream had so rudely left off. Illidan, hair wild as he pumped a finger inside her. Her nails, scratching against his back, leaving welts against his skin. She moved faster, relishing in her own slickness, the friction which sent jolts of pleasure throughout her body. His name fell past her lips, surreptitiously, and she bit down to keep it from slipping through again. This was very, very wrong. She knew this.

Maiev couldn’t help but moan his name again.

She imagined him at her back, one hand firmly on her waist, pushing her down on all fours and entering her slowly from behind. Another hand fisting in her hair, pulling tightly as he moved inside her, bending over and whispering into her ear. Nibbling on her earlobe. Digging nails into skin. Hot breath on her neck. Moving his hand back to her clit as he thrust.

Maiev came with a shudder, heart pounding, gripping the sheets as she rode out her pleasure. She felt euphoric, and lightheaded, and…

Panic.

Maiev’s heart thundered in her chest.

_What have you done?_

Maiev pulled the sheets up to her ears as shame overtook her. Moonlight trickled in through the gaps in the canvas, and she couldn’t bear the idea of Elune watching over her now. Her face burned. Her mind raced. Illidan was her enemy, a monster, a betrayer.

_And he’s dead._

Maiev closed her eyes. She had to make sense of this, somehow. Because despite the indecency of it all, she felt her body relaxing, spent, lulling her gently to sleep. It had been so long since she‘d had a good night’s rest.

_He’s dead now. What’s the harm?_

It would be her secret. Just a tool, a trick to cheat her body into shutting off for a few precious hours. Nobody would have to know. Her mind is her own, after all.

She closed her eyes, embracing the fuzziness that spread throughout her body. Maiev was no machine. She would be of no use to the wardens fatigued.

 _And besides_ , she thought, dozing off, _It’s not like you’ll ever see him again._

 

* * *

 

The day Illidan returned to the Broken Isles, Maiev stormed on Dalaran with a righteous fury. She rounded on Khadgar, brandishing her glaive, not caring that Atiesh glowed red or that she was surrounded by Azeroth’s strongest and mightiest.

“How could you,” she hissed. “He’s a monster, he’s a criminal, he’s—”

“Right here.”

Maiev turned around, and the colour drained from her face. There he stood, in front of her, wings flared, eyes glowing. Alive. Very much alive. Maiev stood rooted to the spot, expecting to face half a decade’s worth of pent-up cruelty. But there was no anger in his eyes, no hatred or frustration. He took a step forward, hesitantly. Maiev braced herself for the words to come.

“It’s good to see you, Maiev,” he simply said.

This was too much. Without another word, Maiev turned and fled.

She kept her composure in the days that followed, when her Wardens helped take the Broken Shore. She fought with an unparallelled rage, slicing into fel monsters and eredar alike, eager to coat her glaives in their tainted blood. She taunted Illidan, hoping to provoke his ire, but she was disappointed when he did not rise to the bait—and embarrassed when Velen scolded her in front of their army. They set up Deliverance Point in a matter of hours, and Maiev was thankful for the distraction.

Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. Maiev preoccupied herself with ridding the Broken Shore of as many demons as possible. And always, Illidan was there, fighting near her, sometimes beside her, as they struck blow after blow against the Legion.

She would watch him out of the corner of her eye, watch as he talked strategy with Khadgar, or trained his Illidari. Sometimes she could feel him watching her, too. She tried to catch him, but Illidan was too fast, his gaze always safely elsewhere by the time her eyes landed on his. On the rare occasions where they had to speak, Illidan looked away—at her feet, past her shoulder, towards the sky.

Perhaps he knew, somehow. The thought mortified her.

To her great frustration, Maiev felt her body tense whenever he was nearby. She was immensely grateful for the helm which covered her face, and, hopefully, kept her secret safe. This continued for weeks, as battles were fought, demons were slain, and buildings were destroyed.

Tonight Maiev found herself nested in the remains of the command center. It had been reduced to rubble earlier in the week, and until they could muster the resources to rebuild it, the center lay effectively abandoned. Maiev had chosen a dilapidated room with crumbling walls, and had set her bedroll in the corner. She was exhausted; Khadgar’s shadowblade had inadvertently summoned a pit lord near Deliverance Point, and it had been up to Maiev and the rest of the Wardens to dispatch it while the Illidari languished in their uselessness. Maiev curled her lip in disgust as she disrobed, and slipped underneath the single sheet she had managed to procure.

She was almost asleep when a sound caught her attention. Footsteps, sharp and clear, but light—unarmored, surely, and slower than one would expect of anyone taking a casual midnight stroll. Maiev rolled over and saw a figure emerge from the doorway. Large. Winged. Horned.

_Him._

She lay still as he approached, eyes firmly locked upon his silhouette.

“What do you want?” she called, flatly. “Have you come to torment me? To gloat?”

Illidan approached silently, crouching down beside her. “I want neither of those things,” he said, his voice gruff.

Maiev could feel herself beginning to flush. She felt his nearness, felt the heat radiating off his body, like the soft glow of his tattoos.

“Tell me your business or begone,” she managed. “Just the sight of you makes me sick.”

Illidan opened his mouth as if to speak, then snapped it shut. His brow wrinkled. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips; then Illidan rose to his feet, shaking his head, and turned his back to her. Through sleep-clouded eyes, Maiev watched his outline shrink ever so slightly as he walked towards the exit.

Until he stopped. Clenched his fists.

He whipped around, and reached Maiev’s side in a few quick strides.

“I dreamed of you in the Nether,” he growled. “I dreamed of you...intimately. I don’t understand it, and I don’t wish to understand it.”

Maiev’s eyes widened, chest tightening as she felt a flare of heat rise from between her legs. In the dim light of the moon Maiev could see the outline of a tight bulge beneath his pants. She felt warm. Her heart began to race. This was not what she had expected.

_But it’s what you had hoped, is it not?_

Slowly, without getting up, she removed her hand from beneath the sheet. She reached out and took his, gently, and pulled him down towards her. Maiev heard a sharp intake of breath as she slipped his hand between her thighs, letting him feel her wetness. She turned her head to gaze up at him with lidded eyes. “This is your fault,” she said in a whisper. “Do something about it.”

Illidan stared. Maiev stared back.

He descended upon her like a man starved.

Illidan claimed her mouth greedily, and Maiev responded in kind, nipping at him with her fangs and sighing as he slid his hands down over her stomach. They worked deftly to remove her underclothes, which fell unceremoniously to the floor, and Maiev bit back a cry as his hands slipped over her nether regions. Illidan moved fast, joining her on the bedroll and straddling her with his knees. He crashed their lips together, sucking, biting, as he pressed a knee between her legs. Maiev threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer.

“I loathe you,” she murmured against his lips.

“I need you,” he growled back. With one fluid movement, he took both her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head. He moved down to her neck, sucking and biting gently, as Maiev struggled to get free.

“Is that all?” she taunted, breathing heavily.

Illidan bit down harder, eliciting a moan from Maiev that surprised even her. With a smirk, Illidan placed a wet kiss on the bite mark before trailing his tongue down towards her breasts. He caressed one with his hand, rolling the nipple between his fingers as Maiev writhed against him. He took the other in his mouth, licking experimentally, tweaking, biting, listening to every sound she made.

Oh, _Elune_ , she needed this.

Maiev tried desperately to wrench an arm free, to regain some measure of control. Illidan held fast.

“Impatient, aren’t we,” he rasped.

Teeth clicked together as Illidan brought his mouth back to hers, licking her bottom lip, nipping until it was swollen. He released her breast, and Maiev felt his hands travelling lower, lower, _lower_.

She shivered as Illidan reached her core, his hand grazing over her lips and driving her mad with need. His fingers toyed with her, slipping between her folds and caressing the swollen nub inside. Maiev buried her face in her arm, muffling her cries of pleasure.

“Let them hear,” Illidan murmured against her ear. Then he released her, trailing his tongue down her body until she could feel his breath where she wanted him most. Her hands knotted in his hair as he spread her thighs, nails digging into her sensitive skin, as her body pulsed in anticipation.

Illidan took her in his mouth with vigor. He lapped wantonly, swirling his tongue around her clit, sucking, pressing, flicking. Maiev cried out desperately. She felt Illidan grin against her, diligently continuing his ministrations, and Maiev let out a whine as she felt him slip his tongue inside her.

His tongue was like fire, and the sensation was almost too much. Maiev felt like she might burn up inside if he didn’t stop soon. As if sensing this, Illidan withdrew, returning to her clit and teasing it with his tongue.

She felt her stomach coiling, tightening. She raked her fingers across his scalp, pushing his head closer, closer, closer. Maiev was going to die if he kept touching her like this. With one last flick of the tongue, she let out a cry as her walls tightened, sending shockwaves rippling through her body and making her see white. Her heart was pounding, her breathing laboured. Slowly she opened her eyes and found Illidan looking up at her with...reverence? Passion? Certainly something stronger and less volatile than hatred or apathy. Somewhere in her heart, she felt a twinge. After ten thousand years Maiev thought she had seen all there was to the Betrayer, but now, splayed naked on the bedroll with Illidan worshipping her between her legs, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she might have more to learn.

Gently, tenderly, he extracted himself from her legs, revealing bright scarlet markings along her thighs. Good. Something to remember this by. He climbed back up and kissed her softly, stroking her cheek as she basked in her afterglow. Maiev closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and waited for the shame to rise.

It never did.

“Ten thousand years I wasted away in the Barrows Deeps,” he murmured against her lips, “and not once did I confront the horrors of what I’d done.” Maiev opened her eyes in confusion, and saw fel green staring back at her. “Yet six years in the Nether was enough to bring my mind to shambles. The souls of those I killed, their screams—” Illidan looked away, placed his palm against her cheek. Stroked her lip with his thumb.

“I cannot bring them back,” he said softly. “I cannot make up for my wrongdoings. But, Maiev…” at this he returned his gaze, eyes boring into hers, pleading. “If I can save this world, if I can stop the Legion from creating more shrieking souls, then perhaps I can start this new life by doing something right.”

His fel eyes searched hers, looking, seeking, begging for something. Approval, maybe, or acknowledgement. Instead Maiev reached down for Illidan’s hand, and brought a finger to her lips. “My turn,” she whispered, as she slipped his finger into her mouth and sucked.

Illidan let out a shuddered breath as Maiev rolled her tongue around him. She pulled his finger out with a pop, and stared back at him with lust-filled eyes. She pressed her lips back to his, kissing wetly, languidly, as she wrapped her legs around him. With some effort and a flurry of wings she flipped him over, and Maiev gazed down at him, hand on his tattooed chest, tracing the symbols. She rolled her hips against his, delighting in the friction as she rubbed against his groin. She felt him, hard, trapped, waiting. So with one last messy kiss she pulled away and reached down to free him from the confines of his leathers. Illidan kicked them readily to the floor, where they joined her own clothes in a pile.

Maiev ran a hand experimentally up his length, watching the way it made him tremble. Illidan’s breath hitched as she gripped him gently, legs straddled, and positioned him at her entrance. Maiev locked eyes with his, biting her lip, and sunk slowly, slowly down.

Illidan groaned as she took him inside her, as she leaned forward and placed a hand down on either side of his head, as she panted breathily, adjusting to his width. He placed his hands clumsily on her waist, thumbs stroking her stomach, gentle. And then Maiev began to move. Slowly, at first, then faster and faster as Illidan’s hands pressed tightly against her skin. She felt him sliding effortlessly inside her, felt his hot breath against her cheek, felt her nipples harden from the friction.

It was exhilarating, and wrong, and so, _so good._

Illidan sat up, abruptly, encircling her with his arms, crashing his mouth to hers, giving Maiev just enough time to wrap her legs around him. Hardly had she locked her legs around his middle when he gripped her fiercely under her backside and hoisted them both upright, wings thrashing, stumbling against the bedroll and leaning Maiev against the wall.

He held her tightly against him, her back scraping against brick as he moved slickly inside her. Illidan reached one hand between them, finding her swollen clit, rubbing in circles. His nails dug into her thighs as he thrust her against the crumbling stone, as he bit gently at her lower lip, teasing her, overwhelming her with sensation.

“Illidan,” Maiev whimpered. She was _so close_. “Illidan…”

At this he pulled away, eyes wide, astonished. He stared down, at her pleading face, at her bruised lips, at her vulnerable body connected so intimately with his. Then Illidan increased his pace, pumping rhythmically, every thrust sending shivers down her spine. She tightened her legs around him, dug her nails into his shoulders, feeling herself rock over the edge.

She cried his name as she climaxed, the sound of her voice echoing through the halls. Illidan quickly brought his lips back to hers, kissing desperately, fervently, as he tensed up and spilled himself inside her.

She pulled her head back, their heavy breath in tandem, covered in sweat. Maiev could still feel Illidan pulsing inside her. He pulled himself out, gingerly, and lowered her back onto her feet. She collapsed against him.

The chamber was deathly silent but for the sounds of their laboured breaths and the steady, powerful beating of Illidan’s heart.

“I don’t forgive you,” she murmured against his skin.

Illidan studied her for a moment. Then he nodded once, slowly.

But he took her in his arms anyway, as they lay down on the bedroll together. “Just this once,” he whispered, wrapping his wings around them both as Maiev settled against his chest. He was warm, and solid, and Maiev was asleep in seconds.

Before she dozed off she felt Illidan place the ghost of a kiss on top of her head.

 _Just this once_ , she promised herself before succumbing to the blackness.


End file.
